


White Flag

by thanksalotpablo



Category: Far Cry 3, Gorillaz
Genre: Cages, Canon-Typical Violence, Drug Use, Gun Violence, Handcuffs, Human Trafficking, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, Ransom, Slavery, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29076072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanksalotpablo/pseuds/thanksalotpablo
Summary: During the attack on Plastic Beach, 2-D is eaten by a whale. After it dies, its body washes up on Rook Island, a once sacred land now run by pirates, criminals, drugs, war, and oppression.
Relationships: Stuart "2-D" Pot/Vaas Montenegro
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	White Flag

No war!  
No guns!  
No corps!  
Just life!  
Just love!  
No hate!  
Just fun!  
No ties!

\--------------

The stomach of a whale is a terrible place for someone to be in. The flesh reservoir sloshes aggressively with every contraction of the muscles, leaving only a small pocket of barely-breathable air to struggle to stay up for. Every time the whale feeds, a flood of water forces them under, burning their nose, throat and lungs with salt, pollution, and stomach acid. 

2-D didn’t know how long he was trapped inside Massive Dick after the attack on Plastic Beach, but when the water he was submerged in calmed and he no longer had to fight to stay afloat, he knew the whale must have died. People and garbage aren’t considered a good diet for sperm whales, he figured. 

However, lack of water in the lungs didn’t mean that 2-D could breathe easy. He learned that the hard way when the carcass began to smell. The singer had vomited so much over the duration of his entrapment that all he could do was dry heave at the thick stench. Everything stung, and he wasn’t sure how he didn’t die days ago. Lack of food, water, and clean air all while being restlessly tossed around in a stew of polluted salt water and stomach acid for days on end, and outliving the giant mammal that swallowed him whole made a small part of him wonder if he was invincible. 

So when the water went from the occasional ripple from the whale being pushed around by tides, to complete stillness, 2-D hoped it meant that they had hit land. He’d considered, when the whale died initially, to try to crawl back out through the whale’s throat, but knew that he would only drown in the vast sea once he got out. But now that his little reservoir had been completely stagnant for some time, he finally got the motivation to try. Even if he was somehow wrong, if he was still in the middle of the sea, at least he would die faster by drowning in fresh water than by slowly suffocating in the sickening air of a huge decaying fish. 

The first breath of crisp, clean air as he pulled himself out of the whale’s mouth made 2-D feel like he had been born again. His eyes stung as light filled his vision, so bright that he couldn’t keep them open. He felt his body hit solid ground and groaned weakly. All the energy was sucked from his body as he relaxed into the soft, sun-warmed sand. Before he could even bother to assess his surroundings, he drifted off into a long overdue rest. 

-

Not even three hours later 2-D was awoken by the agony wracking his body. As much as he wanted to lay there and relax, he knew he was severely dehydrated and malnourished, and had to find something quick. Pushing himself up onto his hands and knees and trying to ignore the stinging of his respiratory system and the sharp ache in all his muscles, he strained his eyes to finally look around at where he washed up. Lush, green trees with large leaves lined the edge of the coast and he could see cliffs ahead in the distance, tall rock formations on the beach far ahead. 

The singer sighed. He had no survival instinct and he knew it. How on earth would he find drinkable water or food? Would he be lucky enough to find coconuts? Desert islands are supposed to have coconuts, right? Even then, he probably didn’t have the strength to crack one open. 

The singer’s hopeless thoughts were interrupted when something in the sky above the jungle caught 2-D’s eye. 

Smoke. 

Someone else was here. 

So with a newfound burst of energy, 2-D hoisted himself off the ground with a groan and trudged off slowly toward the beacon of hope. 

2-D prayed as he entered the jungle that he didn’t stumble upon anything mean. There was no telling what resided on this island. A few minutes of walking and 2-D could only hope he was still going the right direction, because only patches of sky were visible through the foliage and he couldn’t see the smoke anymore. He had just begun trying to take deep breaths to calm himself down when he heard a loud, heart-dropping hiss to his right, and 2-D froze, straining his eyes to scan the shrubbery that the noise came from. 

The leaves rustled. 2-D took a couple steps back. 

Suddenly something launched across the ground toward him; something reptilian, like a giant lizard.The bluenette took off running with a shriek in the other direction before he could get a better look. The rustling behind him was not getting any further away, and glancing back 2-D was horrified to see that the creature was as fast as he was, only being slowed occasionally by the undergrowth. He was speeding through the forest, stumbling over vines and roots until he reached a clearing-- A dirt road!

But knowing that the animal was still hot on his tail, 2-D took a right and continued down the road. He sprinted until he noticed a large rock to the side and pulled himself up onto it, gasping. As he turned himself around to sit, the reptile scurried toward him, its short legs carrying it across the ground with impossible speed, and stopped at the bottom of the rock. 

“Go away!” 2-D shouted at it, being answered with an infuriated growl. 

Suddenly both of their heads turned toward a rumbling noise getting steadily louder. The monster scampered away into the brush as a bright red, open-top Jeep emerged from around the corner and skidded to an abrupt stop before him. 

Two men got out of the truck, their faces covered with red masks, and 2-D’s relieved smile faltered as two guns became fixed on him.

“What the fuck is this?” The first man- with a red army beret, a bandolier over his shoulder, and a southeast asian accent- asked aggressively. “Who are you?”

“Erm, I’m- I’m 2-D…” he said cautiously, holding his hands up, “I come in peace.” 

“What are you doing here? Clearly you’re not from here.” 

"I- I dunno, I got eaten by a whale and- and it died and washed up here and I just got out, and--”

"Is that a fucking joke?" the man asked, stepping closer and brandishing his rifle angrily. 

"No sir, it's- it's true, its body is on the beach, erm, somewhere that way...” 2-D pointed vaguely toward the jungle across the road. 

“Come down from there.” 

The singer hesitated. “But there was- there’s this huge--” 

“Come down before I shoot you down!” 

“Okay,” he squeaked and jumped down, his legs almost giving out underneath him. He guessed the lizard was the least of his worries now. If it came back surely they would shoot it. 

“You a fuckin’ alien?” The other man- darker skinned, wearing sunglasses and sporting a shotgun- asked in a hispanic accent. 

“No?” the bluenette replied, nervously backing into the rock as the armed men approached him. 

"What's up with your eyes?" the second quizzed, squinting at him to inspect his pitch black orbs. 

“Erm, where are we?” 2-D ignored, his curiosity getting the best of him. 

"Rook Island,” the man snarled, shifting irritably. “I asked why your eyes are like that." 

“8-ball fractures. I was hit by a car twice,” 2-D explained quickly and tried to ignore the angry furrowing of the pairs’ eyebrows, “Look, I’m- I really need some water, I haven’t--” 

“What about the hair?” the one in the hat interrupted, reaching out to tug on a cerulean lock. “Is it real?” 

“Ow! Yes, it’s real!” 2-D whined, rubbing his head as they snickered. The red hat turned to look at the guy in sunglasses. 

“Felipe, you have cuffs, right? We must take him to the outpost and radio Vaas’ compound, he’ll want to see this.” 

Felipe tossed a pair of handcuffs to the man in the hat, and as he stepped forward, 2-D took a step back. “Wait- no- why? You don’t have to--” But he was cut off as he was grabbed by the arm and thrown to the rocky ground with a yelp of pain. 

He struggled against his aggressor, managing to wriggle his arms out of his grasp. As he turned onto his back, he froze at the sight of a shotgun inches from his face. 

“Stop moving before I blow your fucking brains all over the ground, gringo.” 

And so 2-D kept still and dejectedly allowed his hands to be cuffed in front of him and to be pulled up onto his feet. They sat him in the middle backseat, the sunglasses guy beside him and the red hat driving. As they drove, 2-D took in the sights. There were a few forks in the road, an occasional shack or group of buildings, a small lake, and some deer. 2-D sighed and looked down at his cuffed wrists as he began to sweat uncomfortably in the heat. Noticing how dry his mouth was, he decided to break the silence.

“Listen, I haven’t drunk anyfing for--”

“Stop talking.” 

“I just need water!” he rushed heatedly. 

The man beside him glared at him dangerously. Then he sighed and pulled out a metal canteen, unscrewing the lid and handing it to him indignantly. 

2-D put it to his lips without skipping a beat and began to drink desperately. The water was surprisingly cool and soothed his burning throat. He chugged until the last drop, panting as he finally handed the container back to his abductor. 

“Thank you,” he sighed genuinely. The man ignored him.

Finally they pulled into a fenced area with a run down gas station and diner. The area was dotted with more armed men in red- in fact, most things were red; The high flying flag with an eye design on it, the siren poles, the cars, and the tattered cloth draped around some of the fences and buildings.

The driver got out of the truck and walked across the lot and through the crimson metal door of a wood building with a sniper on the roof. A few minutes later he returned to the truck with a man in a heavy black chestpiece, his dark face unmasked. 2-D wondered as he sat down in the passenger seat how he didn’t get heat stroke in that gear. 

“What’d he say? We going over there?” asked Felipe. 

“Yeah, he’s excited to see him.” the red hat answered contently as they peeled out of the outpost. 

“I ain’t seen Vaas since my initiation,” the armored man spoke in a deep American tone. 

“Is that why you’re here?” Felipe teased, “You gonna cream your pants when you see him?” 

“Man fuck you, I’m here to protect your bitch ass on the way there,” he responded glancing back at Felipe with an amused grin. 

2-D’s body jolted as the vehicle took a sharp turn, skidding on the rocky path. The singer was used to bad drivers, but with no seatbelt and with his hands bound in front of him, Felipe gripping his arm was the only reason he hadn’t fallen over (or out). 

Taking in the greenery, mountains, and shacks they drove past, 2-D knitted his eyebrows in thought. Everyone he’d seen had guns and wore matching colors. The island seemed to be some kind of military zone, but what military was it if everyone in the car with him was clearly from different countries? And why was this person that they were taking him to ‘excited to see him’? 

“Who’s Vaas?” 2-D finally piped up, turning his attention away from a flock of colorful birds erupting out of a tangle of large ferns. The driver scoffed, as if it was common knowledge. 

“He’s our boss,” the armored man replied, “King of the island.” 

“So erm...” the bluenette continued, his curiosity unfulfilled. “What is it you do here? Lke, why-- why the guns?” 

“You need to stop talking,” Felipe replied shortly. 

Before 2-D could mutter an apology, he heard a distant shout, something in another language, that put his captors on instant alert. Scanning the path in front of them, 2-D could see two people on the road ahead. He was suddenly shoved down onto the seat as gunfire erupted from the pair of figures, the noise amplifying as they continued barreling down the road towards it. 2-D cowered as his captors returned fire, his ears ringing at the shots and shouts. 

“HAHAAA! Fucking rebels!” The passenger roared victoriously when the firing ceased, plopping back down into his seat heavily. 

“Pendejos fired first and didn’t even hit us!” Felipe laughed breathlessly as he pulled 2-D back upright. The singer, gasping, couldn’t help but look behind them, vaguely seeing two bloody heaps on the side of the road fading into the distance. He squeezed his eyes shut as he sat forward again, trying to steady his breathing. 

“Almost there, boys,” the man in the beret said casually. 2-D, bewildered, wondered why the hell killing seemed to be so normal to them, but was too shocked and afraid to speak, instead opting to stare down at his shaking hands. He'd seen people die before- quite a few pirates on Plastic Beach- but it didn't make it any easier to experience, especially not knowing the context of the killing. Why were these people shooting on sight? Why were they called "rebels"? Why didn't the attack phase these guys?

In minutes they stopped before a pier and loaded into a patrol boat, which had a large machine gun mounted on top, and set off toward a smaller island about half a mile ahead of them. Once they reached the opposite dock, they were greeted by a bloke in a red tank top and a bandana around his forehead.

"You bringing him to Vaas?" he asked, leaning calmly against the wall of the small shack as they unboarded the boat. "I'll let em know you're coming up." 

"Thanks buddy," the armored man replied as the guy uttered something into a walkie talkie, and the group set off down the narrow path deep into the island.


End file.
